


Can't you smell smoke?

by fen_the_magnificat



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Fire, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, The Refuge, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fen_the_magnificat/pseuds/fen_the_magnificat
Summary: It was on fire. Everything was on fire.It was the middle of December, freezing cold....So why was everything on fire?
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Crutchie & Racetrack Higgins, Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	1. Who had set the fire?

It was on fire. Everything was on fire. It was the middle of December, freezing cold. So why was everything on fire?

It wasn’t a surprise that Race was the first one awake. He usually was, only waiting for Jack’s call to pull himself out of his bunk. So he was the one to sound the alarm. Specs and Albert joined him soon after his call, pulling the littles out of bed and out onto the fire escape, sending them outside of the lodging house. 

The bunk level was bigger than it looked, and looming shapes sprung from the walls, all clouded in smoke. It was similar to walking through one of those horror stories that the Brooklyn newsies told to scare their littlies. Or like the Refuge, where it was so dark and dirty that you didn’t see the poor, injured boy on the floor until you tripped over him. This train of thought distracted him as Race tried to clear the floor of all the boys. 

He slammed into a burning bunk, scalding his arm all the way to his shoulder. That would hurt. But it was better than anyone else getting hurt. Satisfied that the bunks were clear, he walked tediously back to the window. 

Once they were all on the pavement outside, Race noted that Specs immediately started a headcount. His mouth twitched upwards, knowing that the boys would be safe in Specs’ hands if anything ever happened to him and Jack. Jack. Where was he? Who was here? 

Ignoring the burning lodging house behind him, Race started counting the boys himself. Henry, Albert, Elmer, Specs. There were Buttons, Mush, Sniper and Finch, still desperately clutching his sling-shot. The twins and Romeo, that made 12, counting himself. They were missing two. 

Jack. 

Jack was missing. And… Crutchie. Cripes, they would be in the penthouse. It dawned on Race. Jack would be trying to get Crutchie and himself down from the roof. And Crutchie wouldn’t be of much help, given his bum leg. He had to help!

“Specs! You’s take everyone to Jacobi’s. ‘E should be there.”

“An what’re you plannin on doin, Race?” 

“We’re missin Jack an Crutchie! I ‘ave to get 'em!”

“Race! No! You’s gotta stay- oh goddammit.” 

Specs sighed and began ushering everyone away to the deli. He hoped all three of his brothers would make it out.

Race leapt up the fire escape, trying to shut out the crackling noise the building made. Jack and Crutchie, he thought, get them, get out. Passing the second floor, Race could feel the smoke getting to him, he turned his face away from the building and breathed the somewhat cleaner, New York City air. 

It was as he was looking out onto the horizon, catching his breath, that he slammed into something hard. It was Jack, Crutchie unconscious in his arms, blue shirt singed. Soot blackened their faces.

“Racer, what are you doing here? I thought everyone made it out?”

Race grimaced, remembering the distraught look on the faces of the boys as they watched their safe place burn to the ground. “We did. I came back for you two.”

“Racetrack Higgins, you loyal idiot. Come on. Let’s leave.”

Dodging miscellaneous objects and watching their childhood burn made for an interesting trip to the ground. But it was done. 

The question was, what were they going to do now? 

Another thing tickled at the back of Race’s mind. Who had set the Lodging house on fire? Why? It was freezing cold, the house would have to be deliberately lit alight in weather like this. He didn’t think anyone was their enemy, with Snyder in jail and Pulizter returning to a state of indifference towards the newsies and their living conditions after the strike.

Everyone gathered outside the deli. The group was buzzing with questions. They were in a daze as they checked over each other and made their way to the circulation gate, determined to have some money to continue their lives with. The chatter stopped at the familiar sound of the headline being chalked up above them. Once they had read what it said, breathing stopped too.

_Snyder Case Dropped, Warden Walks Free._

And suddenly there wasn’t any doubt in Race’s mind of who had set the fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smoke rises surprisingly quickly. Or so Jack found out. It was one of those nights, where he couldn’t sleep without hearing the menacing growl of the man who had tortured him for so long.

It started with a nightmare. Those nights all ways did.

Fortunately, tonight had been a night where he could stifle a scream, and not wake up Crutchie, because that kid needed more sleep, and as much as he loved being comforted, waking Crutchie up only served to make him feel worse. 

Jack was surprised when the stars were dimmed. Was he falling back asleep? That would be nice. But, no? A veil thickened over the sky blotting it out. He could smell something burning. 

If those boys had caused a fire, he would- no, they couldn’t have. What could they have set a fire with? It must just be smoke being blown across the sky from somewhere else in the city. 

The continuous smoke didn’t strike him as strange until the roof groaned, and snapped. That got him up. Pulling a half-asleep Crutchie with him, he hot-footed it out of there. 

They were lucky that it was cold, and you’d never catch him saying that normally, but they were fully dressed to keep out the biting wind. 

He made it onto the stairs as the roof gave way, crashing down. He pulled Crutchie fully into his arms, holding him like a bride.

Down, he hoped his boys were safe, he trusted Racer, but there were a lot of newsies to evacuate. These were his thoughts when he promptly collided with Race.

After exchanging some terse words, and god was Race loyal, they made it to the ground.

_Safe, _his mind registered.__

By now the morning bell had rung, so he and Race, and Specs half-heartedly led their boys to the circulation gate.

And then they were let in. And then the headline was put up.

_Maybe not so safe, _his mind conceded.__

And then the Refuge was all he could see.


	2. Reading the article aloud.

The fear that struck those who had been to the refuge was palpable. Race wasn’t- Snyder couldn’t be out. Not after- Crutchie had been so happy! 

Speaking of Crutchie, where was the kid? Everyone knew that together, he and Jack and Crutchie were a unit, brothers. They’d their share of fights, but they came out tighter in the end. And Race needed to know that his brother was okay. Screw that, both his brothers. He scanned the faces surrounding them. Sure enough, there they were, Crutchie, though now upright and conscious, was encircled in Jack’s arms.  
To a passerby, they would have seemed okay.

Not to Race. He’d be damned if he missed the glint of fear in Jack’s eyes, the way he held Crutchie just a bit too tight. No doubt terrified by that name and the memories it held. Race knew. He’d even been there with Jack, sat in those grimy, crowded bunk rooms and prayed to anyone who would listen that his older brother's fresh lashings wouldn’t get infected.

It was the appearance of Weasel and the Delancey's that broke him out of his reverie. The smug grins plastered on all three faces told of the fact that the trio knew exactly what had happened, and wasn’t going to help in the slightest.

Not that Race had expected them to.

There were no jokes that morning as they got their papes. No quick one-liners. All were prepared to pull up a front, sell their papes, chat with regulars. To appear normal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Specs huddled every newsie around him. He knew that he had to give pep talk this morning. Jack couldn’t do it. Not today. 

He didn’t know what to say. What do you say to a bunch of children who just lost their home?

He settled for reading the article out loud.

‘Despite best efforts to shut down the Refuge, a home for children of unfortunate circumstance, the trial against Warden Snyder has been dropped. Due to the lack of solid proof of his abuses, the court has decided on refusing Snyder any high positions of power. He will be forced to work his way up the food chain as any other man would have to do.’

“This is bullshit!”  
“He can just walk free?”  
“On the streets? Like ‘e neva done nothin wrong?”

Specs looked on in trepidation. Those poor boys. He’d been to the Refuge once and he could barely go out for weeks afterwards. He wasn’t even in there for that long. Jack had assured him that it was ok, that every experience was bad, no matter the length of the stay. 

He looked to Jack now, fear prominent in their leader’s green eyes, Crutchie hugged to one side and Race tightly clasped to his other. Brothers together, safe.

But something wasn’t right.

Jack wasn’t all there. Like the days when he would wake up after a nightmare, but would try not to let anything show, for the littlies sake.

Specs grimaced. He knew he was in charge today. He quickly put the newsies into groups. No one was selling alone today. Not with Snyder on the loose, and with the grief of losing the only safe home that most of them had ever known.

It was time to go out and sell. Specs watched as the pairs and trios trudged away from the circulation gate, making sure each boy had his papes, when he heard a sound.

A sound that today was the equivalent to angels singing.

“Sorry we’re late- what happened here?”

_Davey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Bit of a short chapter, with a bit of luck the next one will be longer! What is happening to Jack? What're they going to tell Davey? You'll find out in the next chapter...


	3. Enter Davey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait. School reared its head like an ugly Heartless and I lost that battle. Anyway, I wanted to get this out before June ended so I could say Happy Pride Month!

It was dark. It was cold. And he was scared. 

It wasn’t hard to discern the bunkroom of the Refuge.

Judging by the boys who were situated around the room it was one of the earlier times Jack had been there. The second? Third? It didn’t really matter, he left just as messed up all the same. Snyder was never careful. Not with him.

But this couldn’t be right. He- he wasn’t at the Refuge. Was he? Why couldn’t he remember? Oh god, he must have been more hurt than he thought… what if he didn’t get out this time? Would he never see his brothers again? What if the next time they saw him was on the street, dead just like his old man? His thoughts were like the drunks he saw on the streets, staggering and stumbling. Jack’s vision blackened at the edges as the door to the room slammed against the wall. Behind stood Snyder, seething, cane in hand. He marched forward, slow and fast all at the same time, straight towards Jack. Oh god, he really was dead this time. The Spider grabbed his arm, looser than normal. Almost… gentle? Snyder wasn’t gentle, he was rough, callous.

“Jack! Jack, can you look at me?”, and that wasn’t Snyder's voice, that was…

“Race?”, he whispered desperately, looking at the slender hand of his forearm.

“Yeah Jackie, is me. Ya needs ta let go a Crutchie now, ya’s gonna hurt ‘im”

And all of a sudden he’s back watching Crutchie being beat with own crutch, and he’s not doing nothing, because he’s scared, because he’s weak, because-

“Hey, hey.”, there's Race’s voice again, “Come back to me, it’s not your fault, Crutch is here. He’s fine, he’s worried about you, I just need you to come back to us, please…”

It’s like fog lifts, and Jack is there at the circulation gate. A brother at each arm, Crutchie hugged protectively to his body, Race tapping his arm in a nervous pattern, betraying his calm facade.

Jack smiles wryly. He loves all of the newsies, but these two are closer than anyone else to the Manhattan leader. They knew him better than anyone.

He gasped softly when Race pressed himself into Jack’s side, the normally exuberant boy seeking the comfort, that everyone deserved after such a traumatic night.

Glancing up at the Square, Jack noticed a lost looking Specs corralling the newsies to start the day. 

Specs was a good kid, stepping when Jack couldn’t. 

On a normal day, he would have laughed at the way everyone’s head seemed to snap up in unison when Davey and Les stumbled into the situation. But as he watched his boys flounder for a way to answer Davey’s question.

That’s when it hit Jack. They had lost their home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Davey crashed into Newsies Square. Late.

It was always a tall order getting Les out of bed and ready, much less on time. But Davey could manage.

You don’t become the mother of almost 15 boys and not gain any experience. 

It was quiet approaching newsies square, which was odd because normally you could hear the cackles of laughter as the boys teased the Delancey brothers and got their papes. 

Today no sound exuded from the newsies, just a sort of disbelieving silence.

That needed rectifying, and by the looks of it, no one was going to speak up. So…

“Sorry we’re late- what happened here?”

And it was as he saw so many pairs of eyes meet his, the light flickering out in all of them, that he realised it was something catastrophic. The boys weren’t enraged like they were when the prices were raised, they were desolate.

“Hey, Dave.” Specs spoke up. “How ‘bout you come sellin with me today, eh?” 

“Me too, yeah?” said Les, unnaturally quiet.

“I s’pose he can come with us.”

And the morose parade continued. Davey watched as Specs headed up the end of the line, making sure the younger boys stayed with their groups. 

Why were they in groups anyway? Davey wondered. What could have possibly happened to dim these boys spark?

Davey was snapped out of his musings by a small, broken huff coming from the taller newsie. He moved his gaze to what should have been the familiar lodging house. 

The same lodging house that was smoking rubble on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh with a bit of luck the next chapter will come sooner. Please comment and kudos, they are authors lifeblood. Laters, my dudes!

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep commenting to tell me what you think!


End file.
